


Transformed

by PhancyPheast (DoubleX)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Oneshot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleX/pseuds/PhancyPheast
Summary: Concept partially taken from AmberNotes' wonderful A Stupid Quote. It's pretty different here, but at its base similar enough that I felt I should give credit :)A quote tattoo soulmate AU, in which Dan takes a moment to research his quote and decide to boost his  chances. Probably going to stay a oneshot - we'll see.





	Transformed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vee/gifts).



> The song I finally decided on, for reference, is Antigravity by Starset. I don't listen to Starset but that song is really good and mostly dramatic outro, so...you can listen to it alongside the fic if you want for The Full Experience™ :D
> 
> Some of the references - and even the song, which was released in 2014 - aren't cohesive with our timeline. Artistic licence means this doesn't matter, and that Dan could have an iPod. And Sam could say Ba-la-la-la-la-la-la' because...because Baymax is adorable, 'kay?
> 
> @AmberNotes: If you want me to take this down I will straight away; I just really liked the concept of a soulmates AU with a strange or lyrical quote and I personally think I extended upon the idea instead of just copying ^-^

* * *

 

_Daniel James Howell_

_and far below, the carnivores,_

_are looking up to where i soar_

 

* * *

 

It was Daniel's tenth birthday. The house, which had been full of laughter and boisterous shouting only moments before, quieted. As the sun rose and the clock ticked uniformly past 11:59am, solemn-faced adults held their breath whilst children giggled behind their hands. Friendly faces ruffled his hair and whispered encouragement, mentally or loudly counting down the seconds to the main event. The plain black name tattoo, which had appeared the day he was born, pulsed painlessly but with a strange sort of pressure. Cheering filled the air as a searing pain ripped through Daniel's right arm (that was rare), gone before he could breathe or complain. In its place, looped around his wrist in the same cramped but beautiful calligraphic font as his name, were the words.

The first words he'd hear from his soulmate. The words that would change everything. In young Daniel's bright eyes, this marked the end of...well, not loneliness. Daniel wasn't....lonely, per se. He'd just never had a best friend like most of his playmates, or a partner like some of the older boys. It was just..an absence of trust, with nothing good to replace it with. He'd grow out of it.  _You won't grow out of it._

Slightly confused but nonetheless congratulatory family members pressed around. What did it mean? Was Dan's soulmate going to be a poet? A lyricist? The lines were certainly poetic, but they didn't make much sense. But nobody had asked the bright-eyed boy how he felt, and that night he studied each letter by torchlight. The new ink was as changeable as everyone said it would be, he noticed - it looked black but it shone like an oil slick in the dim beam of his old torch. Silver, then navy blue, then a dusky pink. All metallically shining, like a brand...but somehow  _right._ His.

 

* * *

 

It was Dan's twelfth birthday. Daniel wasn't his name these days, except on registers, stiff certificates of piano proficency and health forms...as well his wrist. The words had finally stopped shifting, the lines and his formerly black name alike 'deciding' on an opalescent blue that made Dan impossibly happy to look at. Over the quiet family party and cake, he decided he wasn't going to wear his new present - just because most people kept their tattoos private under arm-guards didn't mean he had to. His tattoo was mysterious, and beautiful, and his.

Dan's second present - his own laptop. After a long lecture on the dangers of the internet and how to 'stay safe surfing' - _Thanks for that, Mum_ - Dan was finally free to browse without someone literally looking over his shoulder. And he already knew the very first thing he'd search up. Not the music he loved so much, or the social media his friends exulted over the phone (the boring, 2005-style mobile phone with buttons. Buttons, for heaven's sake!) His quote.

The results were instantaneous. As he'd briefly suspected during his late-night theorising sessions with Adrian - probably the least annoying little brother he could have hoped for, truth be told - the lines were literally, well, lines. From a song. Antigravity by Starset. It was...pretty good, but not the best thing he'd ever heard.

That didn't stop him from downloading it to his iPod and listening to it on repeat, until the words seemed to be etched into his brain as well as his wrist. Those words, those random lines that would one day have such an effect on his life, became wrapped around his life like creeping vines. He found himself humming it at inopportune moments, singing it whenever he got the chance, tapping the table rhythmically during tests. It was his anthem. But when the day finally came, the big moment was just that - a moment.

 

* * *

 

A few days before Dan's big 18th birthday, and he wasn't exactly looking for love. He was rare in that respect - as well as one of the few young adults fixated on his tattoo, he belonged to the even smaller group not trying to find his soulmate online. He didn't cover his tattoo up, he wore a shining blue wristband on his other wrist to show he wasn't looking for a partner, he listened to the same song on repeat as he wrote his columns. It was probably more than a little weird. But Dan didn't care. His parents had been in their late thirties when they'd found each other, but Adrian swore blind two of his schoolmates had turned up to their first Year 11 classes late and their quotes had been fulfilled. Imagine that...no. Love would find him of its own accord.

One exceedingly normal day, Dan was taking the 850 bus home to Reading for the week. With an earbud in one ear and and a cheap coffee in one hand, he practically glided along the gangway to the back row without the weight of his safely stored suitcase. The Song was set to loop to put him in a good mood - it nearly always worked, and today was no different.

He smiled as an acquaintance from his last lecture took a seat at his side, nervously rubbing at their arm-guard.  _Um...Morgan, maybe? Or...Ashley? Was it Sam?_ Luckily, his classmate's name didn't come up. After a few moments of small talk - 'Fancy seeing you here!' - Dan ventured, "What's the matter?" Eyes narrowing briefly, his lecture-hall-next-door-neighbour-but-one-or-something turned their head towards him and stared for a second, as if evaluating something. "I can trust you with this, right, Dan?" they suddenly asked.

Dan nodded, feeling a little buzz at the last word, despite himself.  _They know my name! Probably because of the solo presentations project, or the end-of-term party, or the awards ceremony, but whatever._ In response, the student glanced around before very slightly peeling back their arm-guard, showing the slightly pale caramel skin of their wrist...and their tattoo. It had been amended by an artificial tattoo, a thin black line that Dan barely noticed. Even that much was pretty kind of taboo for most of the older generation, but he really didn't care after a lifetime without an arm-guard - it would be hypocritical as all hell. Sometimes, people literally closed their eyes when they passed him in the street. It was insane.

The stu-Sam's words were a metallic green, stark against their skin and blocky as if each letter been printed on with a typewriter. None of the fancy swirls embellishing Dan's tattoo, but at least this one had proper grammar.

 

* * *

 

**Sam ~~antha~~ Dekoremn**

**Um, it's the 8th of June today, according to my phone.**

 

* * *

 

Dan raised his eyebrows. "You lucky b-"

Sam cut him off. "No, it isn't! I mean, no, I'm not! Not lucky at all." They swept back their fringe with a sigh, surreptitiously locking their arm-guard back into place with a final-sounding click. "It could be today, sure. Or this time next year, or the year after that, or the decade after that! Every. Single. Year." They shivered.

"Best of luck, then," Dan grinned, offering Sam a friendly fistbump as they stood up to lug their suitcase off the bus. They obliged with a derisive snort and a grin of their own. "Ba-la-la-la-la-la-la. Thanks, dude," Sam said cheerfully, but their voice wavered slightly and Dan felt an echo of the nervousness they must be dealing with. He barely knew Sam, sure, but it was kind of an unspoken duty to help someone else deal with quote problems if they needed it. He smiled wider.

"No problem," he replied warmly to dispel the miserable feelings before adding, "and, uh, thanks for trusting me. We should hang out sometime, yeah?"

"It's cool!" Sam projected absently from the other end of the bus as the doors swung open and air hissed out to accommodate their suitcase. They hadn't answered his question. "I mean, who would you tell? See you tomorrow!" And they were gone.

"Bye," Dan whispered, suddenly sick to his stomach. He wanted to tear the friendly-therapist grin from his face. Sam wasn't even trying to be mean, were they? They were right.

 

* * *

 

It was the 19th of October. By rights, it should have been Autumn - the trees should have been resplendent in robes of red and gold, those God-awful pumpkin lattes should have been in every hand, the breeze should have started to pick up and rush past scarves and coats.  _A solid one out of three_ , Dan groaned inwardly as the train rattled around a corner and he looked up from his book to glance at the view. Rain lashed the trees in slanted sheets, the kind of driving rain that numbs your skin and plasters any hair you might have to your unfeeling face. Shivering against some unidentifiable draught, he set an alarm on his iPod based on the timetable and curled up around his rucksack, cradling his arm so the people across the carriage might stop staring. Even The Song couldn't do more than scratch the surface of his lethargic apathy, and Dan tried not to think about his workload as he slipped into sleep.

 _Wake up, you're nearly in Manchester_ , his iPod informed him with an angry, painless zap against his leg. Mind still fuzzy, Dan nodded cordially to the screen and packed up in a daze, checking items off from a stupidly long mental list. Threadbare rucksack filled with textbooks? Check. Chunky suitcase from the nearby rack? Check. Requisite plain black black hoodie? Check. iPod and earphones working together to drown out the hissing in his ears with The Song? Check. Quintessential bottle of meds sitting uncomfortably in his (black) jeans' pocket? Check. Ratty old Winnie-the-Pooh toy nestled inside the inner pouch? Check. Dan gave the bear a reassuring squeeze, plastering on that same grin from mere months ago, and stepped out into the lashing rain with his suitcase close behind him.  _Life-defining quote tattoo that serves as the only link between me and my fate-bound soulmate? Who cares?_

The warm old hoodie, which was thick and comfortable but still cotton, was in seconds freezing and soaked through. Sprinting to the shelter of the station's overhang in a rush to save the iPod and Pooh from the great British weather, Dan perched on the edge of a crowded bench and dripped steadily onto the floor, staring into space and mouthing along to The Song even as trains' slipstreams buffeted his face. He felt mad, if that was a way you could feel - and he must have looked it too, because as he thought the words he realised that he was alone. The sun was shining, and the pleasant scent of petrichor cut through the smell of grime and fumes. Dan couldn't care less. He gripped Winnie tighter and swallowed his afternoon meds dry, stomach cramping against the pills. He wasn't hungry.  _Well, perhaps I coul-_ He wasn't hungry.  _Yeah, I suppo-_ He wasn't hungry.

Now only slightly damp as opposed to sopping wet, Dan rose stiffly and shambled along the platform towards the ramp, suitcase trundling squeakily along behind him. He felt about a century older than he was, like a rotten apple that even the fruitflies have left alone for fear of disease. He was eighteen, for heaven or hell or whatever the politically-correct manifestation of the afterlife if there was one was' sake! He sat back down on the floor against the wall, deciding to wait until was moved on before he called a taxi to his shared room. He had hours, after all. Why? _Why not?_ The wall behind him marked the divide between platforms Nine and Ten, and Dan was slightly disappointed to feel only rough brick digging into his back.He ran a hand through his hair for the first time since waking up, and when it came away it felt like he'd been stroking a shedding poodle. No, that was offensive. To poodles.

As the next train pulled into the station, Dan took out his faded yellow bear and hugged it close, wishing. On every birthday cake candle and shooting star and lost eyelash he'd ever encountered, he'd wished for his soulmate to meet him whilst they were young. Either way it would happen, one day. He knew it wouldn't fix things - he wouldn't magically be better. The voices wouldn't leave him alone. But maybe, just maybe, they could be quelled for a little while. Shifting uneasily on the concrete, Dan accidentally brushed against his iPod. The song jumped forwards, and Dan sang a few lines quietly into Winnie's red t-shirt as a lengthening shadow loomed over him. Was it sunset already?

 

* * *

 

Philip Michael Lester

then it falls away into the great escape

over walls and weights

this antigravity, taking over me

 

* * *

 

Dan glanced up, idly scratching at his forearm. "Excuse m-" he stopped. The eyes looking into his own -  _Are they blue? No, green. But look at the yellow! Eyes aren't yellow. Are they ever green like that, though? -_ were awestruck and filled with pain. Dan was about to ask what was wrong when the shocked stranger smiled a small smile under his fringe, pulled off his most definitely blue headphones and sang the next couple of lines back at him. What a weirdo. What a beautiful weirdo.

 

* * *

 

_Daniel James Howell_

_and far below, the carnivores_

_are looking up to where i soar_

 

* * *

 

Dan's brain was screaming at him, as was his arm. He stared in disbelief as his tattoo faded to black, the letters becoming simple ink against simple skin. _He deserves better_ , somebody spat quietly, too quietly for anyone else to hear. The intensity of the moment, of the pain, of the voice, was too much too handle for a second and Dan felt even more tired. After a moment of recollection he simply smiled weakly as he fell against the pal-his soulmate. His  _soulmate. His._

"God," he murmured, casting around in his brain for something slightly more articulate than,"let's adopt." What are you supposed to say to the person you're biologically programmed to find the most attractive being on Earth?

Dan tried, he really did. But the voices got there first.

"You deserve so much better than me, whoever you are," he whispered into the arms of his soulmate, silent tears falling onto a plain black tattoo - specifically, the name. Philip Michael Lester.

"Call me Phil," choked out the stranger he was made for, who was made for him.

"Call me Dan."

"I deserve you and you deserve me," Phil pointed out decisively, pulling away from Dan only to poke him in the chest with a shy grin. "Even if you think you're just a dark horse. I mean, your clothes say otherwise." He bit his lip and winked from under that fringe. Dan ached to reach out and touch it, to sweep it back and kiss the man beneath.  _Yeah, right._

It wasn't a magical miracle cure. Dan didn't suddenly feel like defeating his demons and throwing caution to the wind, or like he could talk to his therapist and truthfully say that he hadn't judged anyone that day. But the friendly poke in the chest, the bad joke, the awkward smile...it sure was a start.

Dan smiled.

Phil smiled back.

And then they were both sobbing, laughing wildly and clutching each other in a deserted corner of the least busy part of a train station. Singing like drunkards, like giddy children, shouting the next beautiful words over the howl of an approaching train...

 

* * *

 

V e g a   H o w e l l - L e s t e r

A b o v e   t h e   c l o u d s,   a b o v e   t h e   s t o r m

A b o v e   t h e   e a r t h   I   a m   t r a n s f o r m e d

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Names  
> Daniel: 'God is my judge'  
> Philip: 'lover of horses'  
> Vega: 'shooting star'
> 
> Dedicated to Vee for being i n s p i r a t i o n al
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it ^-^


End file.
